måndag 31 oktober 2011

The traveller

I travel to far beyond the dreams I used to have
What beckons me and spurs me forward
through the rain of grey reality?
How can vision haunt the soul
and yet so nimbly set it free?
I climb the highest aspirations
And seek the inner peaks of elevation
To shout for more, to fight or flee
to the valleys below the clouds
and steam will rise from those
unblinking depths.

I mean come on – you thought you knew
as you walked through the alleys of your mind
what laid there waiting for you like a rapist
hiding, sieging you so secretly
Waiting to set you free

And I, in Berlin's boulevards
drunk, fucked up and still in pain
liberated, baptised and tossed away
by the madness
from those subtle, solid silver chains.
They explain the need for decency,
and I seek the sublime,
for it seeks me
She sleeps with me behind my back
Since I turned away
To the place where vision never reaches me
And the sound of water dropping
on that abandoned steering wheel,
bewitches me, enriches me.
Where I now lay in wake for you.
I am that rapist in your mind.

I will demand of you the vision,
on a distance, safe and odourless
that I forsook when night rolled in
and my vaults of courage all caved in
Alone, I travelled here for you
for that thing within your precious mind
the diamond in the lotus bud
the life that sparkles in your blood
the single, lonely entropy
and all the honey, and the bees
the flowers and the lemon trees
the great escape from all we sought
The freedom where my soul was caught

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